


ONE SUCH AS YOU

by Fastslayne



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fastslayne/pseuds/Fastslayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of Durin's Day, the dwarves spend their last night in Laketown.  The master sends Thorin a visitor he did not expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ONE SUCH AS YOU

**Author's Note:**

> So, I saw the Desolation of Smaug today, and as I was taking the train home, this little plot bunny popped into my head. It is a one-shot, is strongly M, and has some minor spoilers regarding Kili, so you have been warned. Also, for those who read my other story, "The Iron Price," don't worry--this was just one of those things I HAD to write. As that story is a slow-build Thorin/OFC romance, I think I needed to get a little smut out of my system. Enjoy.

One Such as You

Unforeseen. That was the only way to describe what might be his last night alive. Unforeseen.

Thorin ascended the stairs of the inn, immersed in the din of his company's revelry. After the Master of Laketown had endorsed their attempt on the mountain, he and his men were treated like heroes, whisked off by a swarm of townsmen eager to curry their favor. They were given real weapons, along with rooms at an inn and as much food and drink as they could stomach. Kili, of course, had gone to his bed immediately, clearly exhausted by the wound he was so desperately trying to hide. The rest of the company had been in the common room of the inn for hours, eating their fill and drinking the stores dry. Thorin had joined them for supper, but had not stayed for more than a pint of ale. He had much on his mind, and little mood for revelry.

Unlike the rest of his men, he has been given his own room for the night, for which he was more grateful than he cared to admit. He needed space and time to think, to plan how he would finally confront the dragon who had destroyed his life so long ago. Tomorrow was a day he had dreamt of for what seemed an eternity, yet he felt woefully unprepared to finally meet his destiny. Perhaps he had never truly believe they would get this far, that he would actually once again enter the halls of his fathers and try to slay the great beast who had stolen them away.

He reached the door of his room and entered, barely noticing the interior as he stripped himself of his sword belt and sat on the bed to remove his boots. It was a small room, the furniture sparse but serviceable. The bed was large, clearly made for men much taller than himself, and there was an ewer of water in the corner next to a large metal basin. He poured water into the basin and splashed his face, scrubbing at the grime that had become a second skin. For once, he was glad he kept his beard shorn close in deference to those who had lost their beards to dragonfire; it did not hold dirt and the scent of dead fish as easily as some of his companions' did. In fact, all of his men has been complaining about the state of their beards-except for Kili, of course. Kili, who had not yet managed to grow more than a smattering of stubble. Kili, whom he would have to leave behind tomorrow.

Thorin dropped his head into his hands, his elbows resting against the basin. Mahal, but he did not want to leave his nephew behind. The lad would not take it well. He might, in fact, hate Thorin for the rest of his life, should the company be successful or not. He had fought valiantly, had sacrificed much, but Thorin would not risk both of his nephews in this endeavor. Kili's injury had actually been in a blessing in disguise, for now he did not have to blindly choose which nephew would be saved. All along, he had planned to keep at least one of them away from the last leg of the journey, lest he and the other die in the attempt. There must always be an heir to Erebor.

A smart rap on the door shook him from his reverie. He straightened and walked quickly over, wondering which of his men had sought him out. Balin, most likely, come to check on his king and offer what words of encouragement he could.

Thorin pulled the door open, and came face to face with the last person he had expected. A woman.

"May I come in?" she said immediately, pushing her way inside without waiting for an answer. Thorin could only stare at her as she walked confidently towards the bed before turning and meeting his eyes.

She was a lovely thing, really, with a rich head of honeyed hair and warm, thickly lashed brown eyes. She was also quite petite, shorter than himself for certain, and clearly past the first blush of youth. She had a deep green cloak over her dress, but Thorin could see a low-cut gown peaking out beneath the folds of fabric. Her waist was drawn in by a tight corset, her breasts pushed up for an ample display of cleavage. She looked slightly flushed, and altogether far more tempting than any woman he had yet seen in this town.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, belatedly realizing he had been staring at her form. "Get out immediately."

She only smirked at him, her teeth even and very white against her rouged lips. "The master sent me. He thought you might enjoy some company tonight."

"I do not desire company. I have much to think about and no time to dally with such as you. Leave."

The woman continued to smirk at him, unphased by his rudeness. "Such as me? And just what do you think I am, Master Dwarf?"

"A prostitute." Thorin spat the word out. The woman did not so much as flinch.

"A fair assumption, though not entirely true. I have been such before, though long ago. I am a respectable woman now. I own a drapery, and supplied much of the fine cloth you saw the master wear. "

Thorin frowned at her. "I don't understand. If you are no longer a prostitute, then why did the master send you to me? You can only have one purpose for being here."

"To fuck you?" The woman laughed lightly. "Yes, Master Dwarf, that is why I am here. You see, the Master thought you might find me pleasing, given my slight stature. As you may have noticed, most of the women in Lake-Town are quite tall, including the prostitutes." She laughed again. "He asked me for a favor, and I was not inclined to refuse. Indeed, I am quite intrigued by you." She began walking closer, until she was close enough to Thorin that he could feel her body heat. "I have had my fair share of men, but never a king." She took another step closer, lifting a hand to touch his hair.

Thorin's arm shot out, his fingers closing painfully about her wrist. "I did not give you leave to touch me."

The woman's eyes widened, and for the first time, her smile faltered. "I did not know that leave was required."

Thorin growled, tightening his grip even further, hearing the delicate bones crunch together. The woman winced, but she did not drop her eyes. She was brave, he must admit that. "You are very bold, woman."

"Do you like it? Or shall I tell the master you would prefer another?"

"I would prefer no one. " Thorin dropped her wrist and stepped away. "Leave. I will not tell you again."

The woman cocked her head slightly to the side, seemingly more amused than afraid. "You cannot tell me you are not interested in what I am offering. I saw you looking me over. I saw the hunger in your eyes. Do not deny it."

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "I have no wish to deny it. I am a male, and you are an attractive woman, for all that you are human. But I am not so desperate for release that I will be beholden to the master for the coin he has no doubt paid you."

The woman tsked at him. "Now, now, is that what your refusal is all about? I told you, he asked a favor. I never said he paid me. I am here of my own accord. I am curious, Master Dwarf, that is all. What harm is there in indulging me?"

"If you are curious, then seek out one of my companions. Loathe though I am to admit it, you will surely find one of them more than capable of indulging you. "

The woman was not to be deterred. She advanced on him again, clearly not put off by his manhandling of her wrist.

"I am not curious about dwarves in general. My curiosity lies solely with you. Come, do not act blind to your own appeal. I cannot be the first human woman to find you handsome, and I certainly will not be the last." She reached out a hand again, and this time, Thorin did not stop her. She stroked his hair, running her fingers over the braid at his temple, then ghosting them across the tops of his shoulders. Her touch was light, like a breathe against him, but the contact caused his pulse to jump slightly.

Thorin closed his hand over hers, trapping her fingers against his chest and pressing his thumb into her palm. He took a deep breath, warring with himself. He was summiting the mountain tomorrow. He was going to battle a dragon. He could not afford this distraction, however tempting she may be.

Yet, despite himself, his thumb began moving in small circles against her soft palm, as his other arm wrapped around her back. He drew her closer, closer, until her warm body was pressed tightly against his chest. He felt the push of her breasts against his tunic, their weight sending a shot of pleasure straight down his spine and into his groin. How long had it been since he'd had a woman? Before the meeting in Ered Luin. Before he had met Gandalf in Bree. Before he had gone to search for his father.

The woman looked up at him, her gaze knowing and a little triumphant. She smiled and pressed her lips to his, the kiss lasting for less than a moment before she drew back and unfastened her cloak, letting it fall to ground in a puddle at her feet.

Thorin took her in, getting his first real look at her figure. Her hair fell in waves about her shoulders, reaching down past her chest to her waist. Her gown was cut indecently low, revealing the tops of creamy breasts that flowed into a long neck and trim shoulders. The gown had flimsy cap sleeves, and Thorin could make out her surprisingly muscular arms. She was no delicate miss, this woman, which he found enormously pleasing. Helpless females were not to his liking.

After a moment of letting him gaze, her hands went to her bodice, and she began deftly untying the laces.

"Stop." The woman stilled her hands, her gaze questioning.

"Have you changed your mind yet again?"

"No," Thorin said, placing his hands over hers and drawing away from her bodice and down to her sides. "Too soon."

The woman gave an airy laugh. "Like to take your time about, then? I did not think a dwarf would be one for foreplay."

Thorin dropped her hands and drew back. "We are not rutting beasts. I have no desire to take a woman who is not ready for me."

"You forget that I am well-versed in this act. I prepared before I came here, and am as ready now as I will ever be. "

"You prepared?" Thorin took a deep breathe, holding her scent in his lungs before releasing it through his nose. "You mean you slathered yourself in oil; I can smell it on you. I had thought it was your perfume." Thorin turned his head in disgust, and pulled further back. "I will not do this. Leave, woman. Leave."

The woman stared at him. She seemed to be genuinely confused. "I don't understand. How have I offended you? You cannot expect me to take you in without something to ease the way. It would be painful, perhaps unbearably so, if the rumors about dwarves are true. What harm is there in having thought of this beforehand? " She shook her head. "In the past, men were very pleased to find me ready for them."

"I am not a man. If I were to fuck you, I'd have you wet with your own desire, your thighs slick with your own juices, before I'd thrust my cock inside of you and take my pleasure."

The woman's eyes darkened at his words, and for the first time, Thorin smelt the hint of arousal through the cloying scent of the oil.

"How?" she said, her voice carrying a slight tremble. She walked towards him again, keeping her gaze locked with his. "How would you do that?"

"You cannot tell me have never been pleasured by a man. You admitted a moment ago to being a prostitute." Thorin was incredulous.

The woman blushed. "I know how it works, if that's what you mean. But no, no man has ever bothered doing that with me. Men save that for their wives or lovers, women they care about. " Suddenly, she looked rather fierce, indignant even. "Do not think that means I do not enjoy the act. I have been able to find my pleasure at times, without any assistance from a man. I will not have your pity, dwarf."

Thorin could not help it; he did pity her. Men truly were foul, if that was how they treated a women, regardless of if she were paid or not. Dwarves did not have prostitutes; women were scarce, and always far too treasured for that profession. Even in the meanest of times, after the fall of Erebor and the battles at Moria, the woman of his race had not had to resort to selling their bodies. Thorin would have died before he would have allowed it to come to that.

And yet, here was this woman before him, who had surely done what she must to survive in the harsh world. She was bold enough to sate her curiosity, yet too proud for his pity. He admired her. He would give her pleasure, and take his own, and he would not regret it.

"Enough," he said, putting a finger against her lips to silence her. "No more talking. Keep yourself as quiet as you can. Understand?"

The woman nodded, her eyes wide. Thorin slowly ran his finger over the curve of her lips, enjoying their soft plushness and imagining how they would feeling against his own lips, or others parts of his body. An image of the woman down on her knees in front of him, cheeks hollowed and lips wrapped around his cock, sprang into his mind, and he had to stop himself from groaning aloud. This was about her pleasure, not his, and already his mind was wandering from his task.

Pushing the image aside, he drew her closer, letting his hand wrap around the back of her neck before settling his lips against hers. He kept the first brush of his lips light, barely a touch at all, and held the kiss for a long moment. He pulled back then repeated the gesture, applying a little more pressure this time and coaxing her mouth to respond to him. She did, tentatively at first, then with greater enthusiasm as he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet, as if she'd drank a deal of honeyed wine, and so he drank her in, too, stroking her tongue before pulling back to gently sip at her swollen lips. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and worried at it, biting down so that she gasped and he could invade her mouth with his tongue again.

Her response grew more frantic and she pulled him in closer, kissing him hungrily and sliding her hands up his chest to grip the backs of his shoulders. The press of her body against him was distracting, but he forced himself to only kiss her, varying his pace until he could no longer hold out. He broke their kiss and moved his mouth to her neck, sucking at the leaping pulse he found there, his hand skimming across her breast bone then down over the sweet curve of her hip. He pulled her even more tightly against him, grinding his hips into her soft flesh, and heard her breathy gasp as she felt his erection against her stomach. His cock jumped at her reaction, and he took a deep, steadying breath. Patience, he reminded himself. Patience.

The woman did not seem to share his restraint. She was plucking at his tunic with her hands, urging him without words to shed the garment. He released her long enough to pull the shirt over his hand and toss it aside, before reaching for her again. She held up her hands to stop him.

"Please," she whispered. "I want to look."

Thorin stepped back, watching her face as her eyes took him in. He never gave much thought to the appeal of his physical form, desiring only to hone his body to be as strong and fast in battle as possible. Unlike many other dwarves, he was not given to fat around his midsection, a testament to his constant training and many years as a blacksmith. The woman seemed to like what she saw. Her wide eyes traced the contours of his body, her tongue darting out to wet her kiss-swollen lips. She stepped back into the circle of his arms, running her hands over the thick slab of his chest and down his ribbed abdomen to hook her fingers under his belt. She gave a slight pull, and once again, his cock was pushing against her soft belly. Thorin managed to stifle a groan, but only just.

He kissed her again, this time with more urgency, his grip on her hips becoming more possessive. She kissed him back just as eagerly, hands back to up to grasp his shoulders as she moved her lower body against him in practiced strokes. Her movements brought him back from his lust filled hazed, making him remember his conviction to pleasure her. He stilled her hips with his hands and pulled back yet again. She gave a frustrated mew, sounding so much like a petulant little girl that Thorin found himself chuckling.

"Easy," he said, hands going to the laces of her bodice. "It is my turn to look."

He kissed down her neck even as his hands undid her laces and pushed the bodice of her gown down, the material catching around her hips and leaving her entire upper body bare to his gaze. He drank in the sight of her: small, firm breasts, tipped with dusky pink nipples, a smooth flat stomach, a narrow waist that flared into generous hips. His gaze lingered on her breasts, before he lifted a hand to cup one as he bent his head over the other. His hand gently kneaded her, thumb worrying her nipple into a peak while he laved her other nipple with his tongue. The woman's head was lolling on her neck, her eyes half closed as she thrust her breasts further into his hand and mouth. He kept playing with her, moving his mouth from breast to breast, lavishing them with attention until the scent of her arousal was thick around him. In one smooth movement, he pushed the rest of her gown off her hips and swept her into his arms.

He laid on her on the bed, her naked body a stark contrast to the dark quilt covering it. His eyes roamed the rest of her now exposed to his gaze, taking in the gentle curve of her calves and the delicate turn of her ankle, her full hips and generous thighs. She was strangely bare between her legs, her mound and nether lips completely visible to his gaze.

"You have no hair here," he said as he ran a light finger over her, marveling at how petal soft the skin was.

She gazed at him with heavy lidded eyes. "No. It is an old habit, from before when I...it was safer to not have hair. I use wax to remove it." She suddenly grew self-conscious, and slipped a hand down to cover herself. "Does it displease you?"

Thorin moved her hand out of the way, settling himself between her thighs. "No," he breathed against her. "It is different, that is all. I like being able to see."

He pressed a closed mouth kiss against her mound, willing her to relax and part her legs more. She let out a soft moan and her thighs fell apart, spreading herself open to his gaze. His mouth watered at the sight. She was so pink, her folds glistening, the oil having mixed with her own arousal. He pushed his nose into her center, breathing in, the pheromones in her scent causing his cock to harden almost painfully. She was ready for him, actually ready for him this time, but he was not ready to take her yet.

He slide a finger over her folds and pushed it in her core, feeling her clench around him immediately. For all that she claimed to have known several men, she was incredibly tight, her inner muscles gripping at his finger as she bucked her hips against him. He pushed a second finger inside of her, stretching her, as a load moan ripped from her throat.

"Your fingers," she murmured, voice rasping from her throat. "So thick, Valar save me, so thick and good..."

Thorin smirked to himself as he curled one of his fingers inside of her, searching for the soft spongy center of her pleasure. He pushed against it and felt her body jerk around him, her breath coming in short, almost frantic gasps.

"What...what are you doing to me," she moaned, her eyes unfocused as she peered down at his head buried between her legs.

"Shh," he murmured, before finding her clit and worrying it with his tongue, his fingers continuing to stroke her. She would not take much of this, he knew, and before long she was spasming about him in earnest, her sharp heels kicking into his sides as she reached her peak. He held her thighs down as she bowed off the bed, her core milking his fingers as she rode out her orgasm. He continued to suckle her clit, drawing out her pleasure, until finally her spasms stopped and she lay still on the bed. He gently kissed the insides of each soft thigh, then pulled himself up to lay his head next to hers.

The room was silent save for the cadence of her ragged breathing. He was still incredibly hard, his cock aching to be inside her, but he would not push her. He noticed absently that the noise from below had ceased, and he wondered if his company had gone to bed or passed out from drink. He could not blame them if it was the latter. The impeding weight of the next day began to re-enter his mind as he lay there, and he found himself slowly coming down from his heightened state of arousal.

The woman turned to look at him. Her gaze was still foggy, pleasure-hazy, and she placed a hand over his flagging erection.

"You are thinking of tomorrow," she said, as she squeezed him through his trousers. "That is a mistake. It is still tonight, and we are not through yet."

She turned on her side and kissed him, her lips gentle and searching as her hand went to the buckle of his belt. With his help, she undid the belt and pushed his pants off his hips, his erection springing forth into her palm. She wrapped her hand around the width of him, and gave a throaty laugh.

"So the rumors are true, then." She stroked his length, using the moisture at his tip to ease her hand along his skin. Her grip was perfectly tight, and with each stroke she twisted her hand about the head of his cock, creating a delicious friction that had him bucking into her grasp. Soon all thoughts of the next day were gone, replaced by pleasure and the single minded need to find release.

The woman continued to stroke him, up and down, her movements deft and practiced. She clearly knew what she was about, and though it reminded him of what she once been, he found he could not care. After a few moments, she released him and made to dip her head downwards. Thorin grasped her neck, stopping her.

"No."

"No?" she questioned, looking alarmed. "After what you did for me, you cannot be opposed. I am very good at it, I promise you."

"No," he said again, drawing her up off the bed. "I do not want your mouth. I will be inside of you, or not at all."

With that, he flipped her around, her pushing her head down to the mattress and drawing her ass back against him. She instantly grasped what he was about and spread her legs further to accommodate his hips. Taking his cock in hand, he ran it over her folds, still slick from her earlier orgasm. His patience completely depleted, his found her center and thrust himself to the hilt, not able to care that he was large and should have given her time to adjust. She cried out as he sank into her wet heat, her cry becoming a moan seconds later as he pulled out and thrust again.

He set a furious pace, his hips slamming into hers as he strived for his released. He felt delirious, the stress and anxiety of his journey taking its toll as he pounded into her willing body. The woman was moaning and whispering flighty things to him as he took her, her voice hissing out of her: yes, yes, fill me, that's it, yes fuck me, harder, harder, yesss. Before long, Thorin felt himself getting close, his balls beginning to tighten as sharper pleasure began shooting down his spine. He reach forward and rubbed her clit with his thumb, causing the woman to spasm against him and her inner muscles to clench on his cock, milking his release from his body. In the last moment, he pulled himself from her warmth and spent himself on her back, his release bursting forth in great spurts.

Now the only noise in the room was his ragged breathing, as he collapsed against her and drew her down to the bed with him. She lay spooned against his chest, his seed sticky on her back and covering his abdomen. Her skin was warm against him, her scent comforting, and for a few precious moments, he felt calm, at peace. He was just beginning to doze off when she moved restlessly against him. He released her, and she rose from the bed and went the basin in the corner.

Thorin followed her, grabbing a towel and dunking it in the water before gently cleaning her back. Strangely, this act felt more intimate than anything they had done previously, and it caused a sudden awkwardness to spring up between them. He did not know what to say, but knew he must say something.

"You have not told me your name," he said finally. The woman's back stiffened, and she turned to face him. Her eyes were at once sad and also, strangely determined.

"Do you really need to know it?" she asked. "Tomorrow you will leave this place, never to return as you are now. You will either be dead, or you will be a king in truth." She gave a small smile. "And I don't believe kings nor dead men will have much use for one such as me."

Thorin was silent for a moment, her words echoing through his mind. She was right. There was no doubting that.

"I will not argue with you. But still, this has been...valuable to me. More valuable than I think you know. I will not forget you, my lady."

The woman's eyebrow's raised a fraction. "My lady? I think you know I am no lady."

"You are to me. My lady, in truth. If I die tomorrow, you shall be my last. And if I am king, still my last, for I won't ever again be free to take what I desire. Duty will be my only lady. And she is far colder than you."

The woman raised a hand to his face, stroking his bearded cheek before drawing him close and placing a kiss on his forehead. "I am honored."

Thorin watched as she pulled on her dress, tying up her bodice swiftly and pulling her cloak about her shoulders. He felt a strange ache in his chest as he watched leave, and wondered for the first time in many years, if he had not made a mistake by never allowing himself to find a woman. Find love. Find a family. Duty was cold, indeed.


End file.
